Coping
by ginny-go die in a corner
Summary: Harry never expected to find solace in Draco Malfoy. Hermione never expected to walk in on Harry and Draco engaged in said solace... HPDM.LEMON.ANGST.CHARACTER DEATH.
1. Chapter 1

a/n: Story for Cuban Sombrero Gal's **Five Things Challenge** (there's a link on my profile if you'd like to give it a try ^-^) Takes place the year after DH when everyone goes back to Hogwarts to finish school (well, let's pretend that everyone goes back...) ANGST, SLASH, LEMON/LIME.

There are only five chapters to this story and updates will be every Saturday, unless I get a little review happy :P

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, sadly.

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"Harry, I found that book you needed for-"

The heavy tome Hermione had been clutching to her breast fell to the floor with a _thud_ and for once in her life, Hermione Granger had absolutely nothing to say. No snide or offhanded comments, no suggestions on how someone or something could improve, no words to describe the scene before her.

"Hermione!" Harry cried breathlessly, clutching his Gryffindor gold sheet to his heaving chest with both hands. "Don't you knock?"

It wasn't the fact that Harry was naked that kept her feet plastered to the carpet, no matter how much she wished to just turn her back and walk away. No, she'd accidentally walked in on him in the shower enough times at the Burrow and Harry had just shouted "Occupied!" at the top of his lungs until she had covered her eyes and backed slowly out of the bathroom.

"Filthy Mudbloods," Draco Malfoy muttered as he surfaced from beneath the covers near Harry's lower half, his pale hair disheveled. "Don't have any manners."

"Malfoy!" Harry said sternly, glaring at the other boy. Malfoy didn't seem abashed. He gave Harry a suggestive smirk and then turned his attention back to Hermione.

_Malfoy_... "Oh, god," This was perhaps the most uncomfortable, most awkward, most life-changing situation she had been a part of to date, and probably the last place she had ever meant to be. She shouldn't have been in the girl's bathroom when a troll was rampaging the school, she shouldn't have been sulking around the corridors while students were being petrified by a Basilisk left and right, she shouldn't have been in the hospital after drinking that botched polyjuice potion, she shouldn't have gone to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum when she really wanted to go with Ron, and she _definitely_ shouldn't have been standing in Harry's doorway at that very moment.

"Well, don't just stand there. Either leave, or come join us," Malfoy spat. Harry groaned and put his head in his hands, his already flushed cheeks glowing brighter from embarrassment. He gave a low moan, which could have been Malfoy's name, but Hermione couldn't be sure.

"Erm..." Hermione stammered, unable to look away from Malfoy's flawless skin. She finally was able to come to her senses enough to cover her eyes with both hands, firmly shutting out the strange couple on the bed. "I think I'll leave... if you don't mind..."

"Please!" Harry said quietly. He sounded close to tears, and Hermione wanted to tell him that everything was okay and that she would still be his friend, no matter what his sexual preference may be, but her mouth wasn't working. So she backed out of the room quickly and slammed the door shut, kicking the book she had dropped to the side.

Once out in the hallway, Hermione sat down on the floor and removed her hands from her eyes, but kept them closed. The image of Malfoy and Harry burned in her eyelids. She rubbed at her eyes with the palms of her hands, but the pictures were still there.

How could she not have seen it before? It was unnatural that two people could hate each other so much. She should have seen through the facade. And the bruises on Harry's neck and arms. He'd said it was from Quidditch, an excuse Hermione had been ready to accept. But did she accept it because she truly was blind or because she chose not to see? And Harry's private room... Surely the only reason he had requested his own quarters was because he feared for everyone's safety, as his powers had grown almost beyond his control after defeating Voldemort.

She heard Harry's door open and a cool voice commanded, "Get in here." Hermione looked up to see Malfoy staring down at her, his arms folded. He had put on a pair of Harry's jeans (Hermione could tell they must be Harry's because they were a good three inches too short for Malfoy and he wouldn't be caught dead wearing something so worn-looking) and his uniform shirt, left unbuttoned.

Though she felt she was being treated like a disobedient dog, Hermione ignored her pride for the moment and scrambled to her feet, following Malfoy's order and entering Harry's room.

Harry still lay on the bed, much how she had left him, but it appeared as though he had gotten up, albeit momentarily, to put on a white t-shirt and a pair of plaid flannel pajama bottoms. He stared sullenly out his bedroom window overlooking the lake and surrounding forest.

The door shut quietly and Hermione turned to ask Malfoy for a bit of privacy, only to find that he had already left, taking the rest of his clothes with him. She marveled at his thoughtfulness as she turned her attention back to Harry. He was looking at her now.

"Do you hate me?" he asked, his voice was steady despite whatever tears he may have shed before she entered the room. "I'd hate me."

Hermione shook her head and went to sit next to Harry on the bed, a small voice in the back of her head reminded her what kind of things went on in that bed, but she pushed the voice away. "I don't hate you," she assured him. "And you shouldn't hate yourself."

Harry sighed. "I don't believe you. The look on your face when you walked in while we were..." he paused and seemed to redirect his thoughts. "The look on your face. You were disgusted."

She tried remembering what expression she had made, but hadn't really been thinking about herself at the time, so had nothing to remember. She couldn't even remember the title of the book she had been so eager to show Harry, but was now lying forgotten in the hall. "I was surprised," she said to Harry. "I had absolutely no idea that you two were..." she trailed off. That they were what? Friends, dating, lovers, all of the above?

"No one knows... Well, I should say, now one _knew_..." Harry said miserably, looking down at his hands curled around the golden sheets.

Hermione started. "What makes you think I'm going to tell anyone? Despite what you may think, Harry, I'm still your friend, and I would never betray your confidence."

"Don't be stupid!" he spat, sounding very much like Malfoy in his anger. "I know you tell Ron everything. And I also know that you'd pick your relationship with him over our friendship any day." Hermione stared at him, her brow furrowing in worry. "I also know that this is too big a secret to keep," Harry continued. "Imagine having to keep it for three years! Do you know how many times I came so close to telling you? But I just couldn't."

"Why?" Hermione choked.

"Because. You dealt with enough of my problems and this seemed minor in comparison. But now I have nothing else to do but be alone and _think _about everything that's happened. I get so caught up in the past that I can't see the present, and I doubt there's a future." He shook his head before continuing. "You've moved on, but I can't. You and Ron are together now and you're so happy. I wonder what's died inside me that I can't be that happy with someone...

Malfoy keeps me sane, if only for a few hours."

Hermione's heart ached for her friend. If only she had known how much she had hurt him, still hurt him... But she couldn't sacrifice her own happiness for his, however much he needed it. And she had thought he _was_ happy. True, there were times when she was afraid his troubled life would get the best of him, but he always pulled through, and with a smile on his face. But the smile was just a smile, not real happiness.

Her regret and her apologies hardly seemed worth anything now, so she didn't offer them. "Does he love you?" she asked instead, genuinely curious.

Harry shrugged. "I don't really know, to be honest. I don't think so. At least, he's never mentioned love. I'm not even sure Malfoy has the capacity to love someone that's not himself."

"Do you love him?" Hermione asked, a small part of her hoping that his answer was no, if only to spare him from some torment if Malfoy really didn't return the feeling.

To Hermione's relief, Harry shook his head. "No, but then again, I've never known what love is."

"_I _love you. Ron loves you. I know for a fact Mrs. Weasley wishes desperately that you were one of her own. Ginny still loves you, even after all she went through to get your attention. Well, at least I know now why you turned her down. I had thought you were saving her from harm, but it turns out you were saving yourself a bit too, weren't you."

Harry ignored Hermione's conjectures about why he had rejected Ginny. "The way you love me is different from the way you love Ron. He could kill you and you'd still love him, even with your dying breath. It's unconditional."

"Not true, Harry, not true," Hermione said, shaking her head. "My love for you is unconditional too. You're like a brother to me. Nothing you could ever say or do will make me love you less. In fact, it might just make me love you more for trusting me enough."

He laughed a little under his breath, obviously not convinced that what she was telling him was the truth. Hermione huffed impatiently. She always did have to spell things out for him to see it, but she would let the topic slide for now, as she had no way of proving her love beyond what she had just told him.

"What do you want me to say, Harry?" she asked him, at a loss. "I don't know what you want."

Harry laughed again, louder. "This is a first. Hermione Granger _doesn't _know everything. She's human after all." His tone was sarcastic, but Hermione could see through the bitterness and mustered up a laugh in response.

"You're human too, Harry," she reminded him playfully.

He stopped laughing abruptly, his expression grave. "I know that. Do _you _know that?"


	2. Chapter 2

a/n: Chapter 2 of 5 ^-^ A little bit more of Harry and Draco's sordid past in this one...

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

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_Hermione and Harry stood side-by-side looking out over the lake. Huge waves rolled and crashed on the rocky beach and the purple sky shook angrily with thunder. As rain began to fall, Hermione reached out to take Harry's hand, but couldn't find it. She looked down and saw that his skin was transparent and her hand was slipping right through his as if he were made of the same material as his invisibility cloak. Her hand clutched at his wildly, trying to restrain him as he walked calmly to the water's edge. A sense of loss overwhelmed Hermione, but she couldn't cry out. _

_'Keep quiet or we'll hear you...'_

_Skeletal wings fashioned out of silvery mist sprouted from Harry's back and tore at his flesh, leaving sanguine lines in cross-hatching patterns, but he said nothing. Rain ran down his bare skin in rivulets of blood and every pale scar on his body stood out in stark contrast against the red. Hermione had never seen so many scars. Harry held his hands out before him and laughed as names carved themselves into his forearms with invisible blades._

_Lily, James, Cedric, Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore. They were all there. _

_'You're not supposed to be here...'_

_Soon there was no skin on his arms left uncovered by the names of the dead, but one final name slashed itself into his torn flesh, searing it from the muscle and engraving itself in the bone: Harry._

_Hermione felt the ghost of his lips against her own and his breath cold on her neck. 'Do you still love me?'_

She awoke with a start. All was silent, except for intermittent snores from Ginny's bed across the room. The castle foundation creaked and a clock ticked from down in the common room. Lightning lit the bedchambers briefly and then all was dark again. Seconds later, a muffled crash of thunder could be heard rolling across the grounds from somewhere beyond the Forbidden Forest.

Hermione sighed and wiped her sweaty forehead with the back of her hand, relishing in the cool breeze that drifted through the open window beside her. But all too soon, she began to shiver and stood to close the window.

Across the lake, she thought she saw a shadow near the shore, wading in the shallows. A dark figure that seemed to stare up at her with hooded eyes, though she knew it was impossible for her to be seen from that distance. It reminded her of something, but Hermione couldn't remember what.

The dream slipped away with the shadow and Hermione closed the window.

* * *

"Scream, Potter." Malfoy bit into the tender flesh at Harry's collarbone as hard as he could and stared up at the Gryffindor from under his pale lashes. Harry knew that if there was one thing Draco Malfoy loved more than himself, it was hearing Harry utter his name in complete acquiescence. But Harry wasn't planning on giving in that easily.

He gasped and his back arched off the bed, only to be pinned back down uncomfortably by Malfoy's full weight on his hips. His eyelids fluttered and he whispered, "I don't scream," as he dug his nails into Malfoy's naked back, raking them down his sides to his well-toned chest and pushed Malfoy off of him with as much force as he could manage. His skin burned where Malfoy had bit him and, looking down, Harry could see white teeth-impressions and a purple bruise developing.

"Idiot," Harry muttered as Malfoy crawled back on top of him, resting his angular chin on Harry's chest and worming his arms underneath the other boy, holding him in a vice against his body. "It'll be so hard to cover this one up."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Why cover it up then?" He didn't let Harry answer. Instead, he nibbled at the skin near Harry's nipple on top of a group of fading bruises. Harry hissed and pulled his arms out of Malfoy's grip, wrapped his fingers in the Slytherin's blonde hair, and pushed him down. He obliged and disappeared under the covers with a satisfied smirk.

Harry could feel Malfoy's hot tongue tracing patterns on the insides of his thighs, teasing him. Suddenly, the tongue stopped, but instead of feeling a warm wetness engulf him as Malfoy performed his usual duties, Harry felt the exhale of a warm breath near the head of his cock. "I could stop, you know," Malfoy said.

With a groan, Harry barely contained the urge to grab the back of the other boy's head and skull-fuck him. He twined his hands around a tangle of his bed sheets so he wouldn't be tempted still. "You won't," Harry said, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth. "You like the control you have over me too much. That's all you think about."

The sheets moved as Malfoy shrugged. "Perhaps," he mused.

Harry's eyes snapped open in the same instant he threw the covers from Malfoy's body. He was looking up at Harry from where he was crouched down on all fours, his mouth just a mere centimetre away from Harry's throbbing length. "You can't be serious," Harry groaned, the warmth in him slowly fading until there was almost nothing left. "This is just sex," he reminded Malfoy. "You get off on controlling other people and I get off on being controlled. That's the agreement we made, remember? Or has that just slipped your pretty little mind?"

A contemptuous laugh escaped from Malfoy's lips and Harry shuddered as his breath washed over him. "You think I'm pretty?"

Harry scoffed. "Hardly."

Malfoy's expression hardened. With his hand he grabbed the base of Harry's cock roughly and with one swift jerk, Harry was stiff again. He hissed with pleasure, knowing that Malfoy would never deny him something he wanted as well.

"Without me, you're nothing."

Harry nodded and gave into the feeling consuming him. "I know, Draco."

* * *

Malfoy left Harry's room barely an hour later after finishing up and taking a shower in Harry's bathroom. He never stayed the night. It was just an understanding between the two of them. The only reason Harry would ever have asked him to remain would be to prolong the feeling of being needed by someone. Of course, Harry knew there were plenty others Malfoy could use to satisfy his needs, plenty others Malfoy _did _use, so he never asked, as the request would be one-sided. He didn't want to waste anyone's time but his own.

This night, the feeling seemed to fade faster than it had in the past. Before, Harry had at least been able to doze off peacefully for a few hours and wake up being able to maintain his carefully created mask and keep it from shattering. What had changed?

_In his haste, Harry had forgotten to charm the bathroom door shut, or at least turn the lock. He stood in the center of the wide room and stared at his forearms. His blue veins pulsed under the tight, pale skin of his wrists. The moonlight filtering through the slatted window reflected off the bit of broken mirror he held clutched in his hand. The mirror that could have saved Sirius, if only he had paid more attention._

_He wouldn't cut his wrists, that was too obvious. He couldn't be expected to defeat Voldemort from the psych ward at St. Mungo's. Unbuttoning his shirt awkwardly with one hand still curled around the broken mirror, he slipped it off over his shoulders and let it drop to the floor at his feet. He unbuttoned his pants as well and pushed them down a little, until his hipbone was exposed. Without thinking, he pressed an edge of the mirror to his skin there. Pinpricks of blood beaded on the mirror's surface and Harry had to look away as he pressed harder, feeling the cold glass mix with his blood. But this new pain didn't make the old pain go away, not completely._

_"You'll never solve anything with a bit of glass."_

_The mirror fell from his hand and shattered on the dingy, brown bathroom tiles. Harry could feel Malfoy's calculating gaze on his back as he held his hand to the cut, trying to stop the blood from pouring out of him. The other boy laughed loudly, the smooth cadence of it echoing from wall to wall. "Don't worry, Perfect Potter, I won't tell on you." He walked casually around Harry until he was facing him, looking directly into his eyes. _

_Harry blinked, the corners of his vision faded. "You won't?"_

_Malfoy shook his head. "We all have our own vices." He ran his fingers down Harry's bare chest and hooked them in the elastic band of Harry's boxers, tugging the Gryffindor to him, staining his dark green shirt with Harry's blood. Harry swooned and almost fell, but Malfoy held him steady. "Come now," he chided. "It's only a little blood. I thought you were tougher than this, Potter."_

_"Show me," Harry slurred. His heavy eyelids closed as he felt Malfoy reach into his boxers and take hold of his cock expertly. Harry hadn't even realized that he was aroused, but suddenly, it all just seemed so right. _

Harry shook his head. He knew so much more now, it was hard to believe that he had ever been that inexperienced in dealing with pain.


	3. Chapter 3

a/n: Chapter 3 of 5 ^-^ The plot thickens...

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

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Hermione rapped her knuckles loudly on Harry's bedroom door, remembering just in time not to barge in, as was her first instinct.

"It's safe, Mione," Harry called from inside. He was tucking something into his desk drawer as she stepped in and shut the door behind her, obviously relieved that she hadn't caught him in the act once again, Harry smiled. Hermione could almost pretend that nothing was amiss, that's how convincing his mask was.

"Don't mind me, I just need to finish getting dressed," he told her, zipping up his pants. "I don't think you'll see anything you haven't seen before." He gave her a playful smirk and a wink.

"Well, you certainly are in a better mood today than when we last spoke," Hermione noted, elated that Harry was in higher spirits. She let herself smile a little. His happiness had always rubbed off on others in the most endearing way. "What's changed?"

"I've just made my mind up about some things that have been bothering me for a while." He reached down and pulled his black t-shirt off over his head.

Slowly, as more of Harry's skin became visible to her, Hermione's carefully controlled smile faltered and then fell completely when she caught sight of the bruises on his collarbone and chest and the bite marks across his shoulders and stomach. Grabbing him by the shoulder, she turned him so that he was facing her straight on and the light from the window illuminated his skin.

The shirt fell from his hands in a pile on the floor. Harry paled. He had forgotten Hermione was highly observant.

With a pained expression, Hermione examined his skin, her fingertips tracing lightly over the offending marks. She winced visibly as her hands found the neat rows of scars on Harry's hip. They had long since healed over, but faint raised lines remained behind as a brutal reminder that no healing charm could conceal. Hermione's hand flew to her mouth, the perfect image of the horror-struck ingénue in a silent film.

"Oh, Harry," she moaned, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes and falling down her cheeks, making little wet splotches on her sweater. Harry stared at them so he wouldn't have to look at her. "What has he done? How can he hurt you like this and live with himself?"

"I let him do it," Harry said flippantly, trying to dismiss Hermione's concerns.

Her head snapped up and her brown eyes seared into his green ones. "You _can't_ mean you _like_ being abused."

"You call it abuse, I call it coping." Hermione shook her head and looked away from him, but was careful not to let her gaze fall on his bed, Harry noticed. He breathed a sigh of relief. Her scrutinizing stare was unnerving. "Malfoy makes me forget, and when I'm with him... the pain goes away," he heard himself trying to explain.

She was quiet. "But it always comes back, doesn't it?" Her eyes found his once again and searched for an answer as if it were written somewhere on his face. Harry's heart broke and he hated her for knowing him so well. "You're wrong, Harry," she continued. "He doesn't make the pain go away, not for good. The only thing he's doing is helping you slowly kill yourself. He's a monster."

Harry stiffened and shrugged into his uniform shirt, hiding the scars under the white cotton. His fingers nimbly navigated the buttons into their respective holes. "If he's a monster for doing it, then I'm a monster for letting him. It goes both ways, Mione."

He wanted to punch the anguished look right off her face. She didn't mean anything she said; her act was just as phony as his. The only thing keeping her in this room with him was her sense of duty. She didn't care. And neither did he.

* * *

Hermione paced the hallway to the dungeons, waiting for Malfoy to come out. She had already asked two first-years to pass along a message for him to meet her outside, but only one had come back with a response: Malfoy was busy. The look on the smaller girl's red face told the whole story. Malfoy wasn't just busy. He was _busy_. Hermione could have cried.

Finally after what felt like an eternity of waiting, Malfoy emerged from the Slytherin common room. He was wearing a pair of fitted black trousers, the top button left unbuttoned. A cigarette was balanced between two fingers. Hermione regarded the scratches on his back and sides with a grimace of distaste. Had Harry done that? Or had it been someone else? She shuddered at the thought.

He sighed. "Well, I'm here. What do you want, Granger?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "I want you to stop sleeping with Harry." The words tumbled out in a rush, and for a second, she thought he hadn't heard her, but then he began to laugh, and Hermione felt anger boiling inside her. "I'm serious, Malfoy. Stay away from Harry."

The laughing faded away, but a smile remained on his thin lips. With a shake of his head, he stubbed his cigarette out on the stone wall and walked over to her. "You don't get it, do you, filthy, little Mudblood?" Hermione glared at him. "I didn't think so," Malfoy went on, caressing the side of her face with the back of his hand. "People who are happy rarely understand those who aren't. I bet every time you look at him, you want to scream 'it's not that hard, why can't you just be happy like me?'" He chuckled again and took a step back.

"Some people are happy naturally, and some people need a little coercing."

"Is torturing people into submission your idea of coercion?" she spat.

Malfoy shrugged, but offered no clarification. "Harry feels useless. I make him feel wanted. It's simple, as is our agreement. The pain is one thing, the sex, quite another. Pain makes everything fuzzy, but sex sharpens the senses. Don't tell me you don't notice how clear everything is after an orgasm, even _you're_ not that naive" With a suggestive smirk, he leaned in until his lips were barely a centimetre away from her own and whispered seductively, "And I think he enjoys the sex."

Hermione gritted her teeth. There was not a single person in the whole entire world that she despised more than Draco Malfoy at that very moment.

Noticing how angry he was making her, Malfoy smiled and gave her a quick wink before turning his back. "Maybe you'll see it my way one day." He shrugged again, the scratches rippling on his pale skin. "Who knows?"


	4. Chapter 4

a/n: chapter 4 of 5 ***sniffles* **Please remember to review! A lot of people have put this on their alerts, but it doesn't take much more effort to leave a review as well. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

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The bathroom door opened, the bright lights from inside the tiny room partially illuminating the dark bedroom beyond it. Draco Malfoy's trim outline appeared in the door frame, a towel around his waist. He peered out into the unwelcome darkness of Harry's room with confusion. There was usually a light left on. He had never known a time when there wasn't a lamp lit somewhere. Draco sneered. Maybe Potter had finally gotten over his childish fear of the dark and all the monsters that came with it.

Or maybe…

"Potter?" he called out, his voice sounding weaker than he would have liked it to. He listened intently for the smallest noise, not willing to admit that what he was really listening for was Harry's breathing. He heard nothing. An uncontrollable feeling of apprehension hit him in the gut. Draco was loathe to call the feeling "fear", but that was as close he could come to describe the fluttering in his chest.

From the light cast by the lamps in the bathroom, Draco navigated his way through the otherwise pitch-black room blindly, feeling around with his feet in an effort to find his pants. The thought that he'd come across a body kicking at the floor like that entered his mind, the image of Harry sprawled on the carpet fueling his search.

Upon finding his pants, Draco released a small breath of relief that was short-lived. He dug around in the pockets until he found his wand and pulled it out, holding it between his teeth while he let the towel around his waist to drop to the floor and slipped his pants on instead, the coarse material sticking to his legs where they were still damp from his shower. But once that was done, he paused.

Should he check at all? Or should he just gather the rest of his clothes and leave like nothing was amiss? No one would be the wiser except that Mudblood Granger. But she had no proof that he had done anything wrong, nor did he know if anything had even happened. So the real question was: Which was better, knowing or not knowing?

Draco had always thought the unknown was vastly more frightening. So clutching his wand tightly in his sweaty hand, he whispered, "_Lumos_."

Harry lay on the bed, propped up on a mound of pillows staring at him with clear eyes. His bare chest rose with quiet breath. Draco's moment of immense relief was clouded by an intense rage. He threw his wand to the floor violently, where it snapped against the baseboard of a wall.

"Why the fuck didn't you answer when I called you?" he yelled. His voice shook and looking down at his hands he noticed tremors wracking his fingers making them twitch and dance at his sides. He clenched his hands into fists, hoping that Potter would realize he was angry, not scared. It would be just like the Golden Boy to see something like that and jump to all sorts of ridiculous conclusions. Draco didn't care about him, and wanted that to be perfectly clear.

Harry opened his mouth slowly, carefully selecting his words before he said them. "I wanted to see if you'd care enough to check."

Draco growled. "Sure I checked. If you died in my presence, whom do you think would be blamed?" he asked, a hint of his old contemptuous tone seeping back into his voice. Draco welcomed the return of his normal demeanor.

"But no one knows you're with me."

He ground his teeth together and ignored Harry's comment, purely because it made perfect sense and he didn't want to acknowledge that. Instead, he laughed and strode over to Harry's bedside. "You couldn't do it." Harry just stared up at him impassively.

"Coward," Draco spat, reveling in the livid expression the name elicited on Harry's face.

"I'm no coward, Malfoy," Harry returned, just as viciously as Draco had. His jade eyes burned, but there was something missing. There was once a time that Harry looked upon Draco with a hatred that was almost touching in its savageness. Now, that was gone, replaced by glowing embers of resignation.

Without thinking or giving any sort of warning, Draco grabbed the other boy roughly by the back of his head and forced his lips upon Harry's. There was no reaction at all from him. His arms remained laid out limply at his sides and he surrendered his mouth to Draco's tongue with no protest. It was unsettling, almost as if there was nothing Harry cared about that was worth fighting for anymore, not even his dignity.

Draco slowly moved to the bed and positioned himself on top of Harry, his legs tight against Harry's sides, searching for something of the old Harry, the one who would just as readily fight you as say he loved you.

He pulled away and pressed his forehead against Harry's. "Are you really giving up that easily, Potter?" he asked. "Or are you just trying to get me to stay a little longer?"

Harry shrugged noncommittally under Draco's weight. "Both."

Draco chuckled sadly, but there was no humour in his voice. "I would have stayed. All you had to do was ask me."

* * *

When he had left his room, Malfoy had been sleeping peacefully, the sneer wiped from his face in his slumber making him almost look human. Harry had left the lamp on. No one should be left in the dark, not even Malfoy.

Harry sat on the shore of the Great Lake, his shoes on the bank next to him, carefully placed beside one another, a bit of parchment weighted down under their soles.

A light breeze ruffled his hair and he held tight to the white feather pinched between his fingers. Harry stroked the soft barbs absently and gazed up at the castle. A few lamps were left on here and there, but slowly they all went out one by one until the only light Harry had to see by was from the moon.

He stared down at the feather in his hand. That feather that he had found tucked into a sweater that had been forgotten in the clutter of his school trunk was all he had left of his owl, Hedwig. To be perfectly honest, that one little token, though simple, was probably his Harry's most prized possession, besides the few pictures he had of his parents.

Hermione would understand its significance better than Ron, which is why he had originally placed it in the parchment addressed to her that was currently under his shoes. For Ron, he had just folded his invisibility cloak and placed it on his friend's trunk with a card that had his name on it. Harry could only hope that his intentions were obvious enough.

And if they weren't, what did he care? It didn't matter to him. Nothing did anymore. The wizarding world was safe, his friends were happy, what more could he ask for? What more could he do? Nothing. Harry shrugged. His one true purpose in life had already been fulfilled, and he had just barely turned eighteen.

He scooted closer to the water, feeling the coils of mist that hovered above the murky surface tickle his toes. With a sigh, he reached for the parchment, but not to read over what he had written for the umpteenth time, just to replace the feather and readjust the paper under his shoes. His mind had been made up for quite some time; there was no need to edit the letter at this point.

He removed his glasses and folded them slowly before placing them inside one of his shoes. Everything was exceedingly blurry, but it was just as well; Harry would rather step into the unknown blind than afraid of what there was to see.

Standing, Harry moved forward until he felt the first inches of frigid water touch his toes. He cringed, goosebumps erupting on his skin despite the fact he was wearing a sweater, and let the water lure him forward by some invisible string. Soon enough he couldn't touch the bottom anymore and the heaviness of his clothes threatened to tug him under before he was absolutely ready to go.

He thought of his parents as he tread in the frigid water. Had they felt this desolate before they died? Were their thoughts only of whom they were leaving behind, of him, in the moments before the end? Did they try to remember those that had gone before them, trying to find comfort in the fact that wherever they went there would be someone waiting for them there?

Harry exhaled, his breath making the tiniest white cloud before his face, before disappearing under the water completely.

He worked his arms furiously, ignoring his body's natural buoyancy and instinct to pull himself back to the surface. It only seemed right that he shut his eyes, so he did, and was greeted by hazy images, still frames of pivotal moments of his short life. They slipped by quickly, but remained for an eternity, carved into his eyelids. Ghost fingers trailed their way up and down his body through his clothes, leaving trails of fire on his cold skin.

_'The only thing he's doing is helping you slowly kill yourself. He's a monster…'_

His body betrayed him and he was forced to inhale, the water rushing through him like fire, numbing the blood in his veins and silencing her voice, the only voice that might have made a difference if she had spoken sooner.

'_Without me, you're nothing…'_

Harry had already died once before, but this time there was no coming back.


	5. Chapter 5

a/n: chapter 5 of 5. I really enjoyed writing this fic, so I'm kinda sad it's over. Maybe there's enough angst in me for another one like this... 

**~~Review please!**~~

Disclaimer: Still don't own Harry Potter.

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_Six Years Later..._

Hermione was wrong when she had thought the last place she'd ever want to be was standing in Harry's doorway after catching her best friend and his supposed arch nemesis in the throws of passion. She'd stand there awkwardly for an eternity if it would bring Harry back.

_"Stupid, stupid!" she whispered fiercely as she kicked dirt onto the small stone that marked Harry's grave. Someone thoughtful had suggested that Harry be buried next to Dumbledore. (Hermione had only later discovered it had been Ron_ _who'd made the suggestion, and loved him all the more for it.) 'A hero sleeps here' was flamboyantly engraved in the stone, as was Harry's name, birth date, and death date. It was simple, yet far too extravagant at the same time. Harry wouldn't have approved of the way the term 'hero' was used so loosely._

_Tears slipped silently down Hermione's cheeks. How could Harry have thought he wasn't needed anymore? How could she have let him slip through the cracks? Didn't he know how much he meant to her? _

_She looked down at the letter in her hands, the only piece of him she had left, and read the words for what felt like the millionth time._

_'Hermione,_

_I'm no longer needed. Voldemort's been defeated, the dead stay dead, and you have Ron to protect you now. (Though I don't think he'll be of much use if spiders ever attack you.) I've done all I could to hold on because you wanted me to, but it wasn't enough. You will never know how many times you've saved me. But sometimes I felt as though you were only going through the motions because you felt like you had to, which was just me being paranoid, I know, but when so many people tell you they love you and then leave you, what is there to believe?_

_Whether you think so or not, being with Malfoy helped me deal with everything. He taught me how to clear my mind, and in the past few years, the only times I've been happy were times I was with him. But don't confuse happiness with love. I never loved Malfoy like I love you. He was a distraction, but not even he could keep me sane forever. Please, please, I know you're angry, but don't take it out on him. Remember, I made the final decision. I know I'm a coward for taking the easy way out. Please, don't let them call me a hero._

_It would be selfish of me to ask for your forgiveness, so I won't, but just know that this wasn't your fault and you did the best you could in the short time we had together._

_I hope you can still remember me when I was your friend._

_With all my love, _

_Harry_

_P.S. Do you still love me?'_

"Of course I still love you..."

Ron thought she had been talking to him. His eyes welled up with tears, but he sniffed them back quickly, not wanting to upset Hermione any further. He bent down to give her one final kiss, to which she responded passionately. She would have clung to him had her arms not been tied down to the chair she sat in with thick, leather straps. Lucius Malfoy sneered at the scene from the other side of the cell bars, his arm around the grieving Narcissa Malfoy in a manner that would be comforting were he actually hugging her frail body to his own.

Hermione felt bad for Narcissa. She had truly loved Draco. Watching the beautiful woman daub at her eyes with a handkerchief and glare at her with bitterness and hatred almost made Hermione feel a tad remorseful. But Hermione felt nothing but a cold loathing for Lucius, the man who had taught his only son to be so callow and thoughtless. Hermione didn't care what Harry had said in the note; She blamed Malfoy because she couldn't bring herself to blame Harry.

"All right, all right," an authoritative voice commanded. A tall wizard in maroon robes stepped into Hermione's view and took Ron gently by the arm, trying to guide him out the cell door. "Let's get on with this."

Ron fought his pull halfheartedly, leaning down once more to kiss Hermione's forehead and brush a strand of lank hair from her face. "I love you," he whispered as he gave up and let the other man usher him away. Hermione could hear his cries of anguish, and longed to comfort him, but resigned herself to the fact that Harry were gone and she soon would be too. She'd never once thought about the repercussions of leaving Ron all alone...

Oh well, it was too late now. Hermione could feel coldness spreading through her limbs and Ron's voice screaming "No!" as he sobbed, not caring who was watching. She felt the pull of something above her and willed her eyes to stay shut. She wanted the last thing she saw to be Ron, not a Dementor as it leaned over her and forced it's kiss upon her. But Ron was disappearing. She couldn't even remember what he looked like. What colour were his eyes? Did his face light up when he smiled? How did his hand feel held in hers?

_"You killed him!" Hermione yelled, her tears making her voice sound watery and weak. The hand that held her wand pointed at Malfoy's chest shook uncontrollably._

_The Slytherin held his hands up in surrender, but his face held no emotion, just calmness in his gray eyes that made Hermione even angrier because he didn't seem to care. "You have to believe me, I had no idea he would go and do something like this. I thought he was fine with the way things were."_

_"Fine?" Hermione shrieked. "You didn't know Harry at all. You just used him to get what you wanted and then tossed him out when you were done. You had no idea how sick he was, how sick you made him." Malfoy was silent. Hermione shook her head. "Harry was right when he said that you were a monster." He looked affronted, but still kept his mouth shut. "My only regret is not killing you sooner when it might have saved him._

_Avada Kedavra."_

Hermione laughed hysterically. All she could remember was pain. Had she ever been happy? One by one, the Dementors stole every good memory she had until she was just an empty husk and every noise she heard was a scream.

_'Maybe you'll see it my way one day...'_

Malfoy was right. She did see it his way.


End file.
